


now that i'm here with you

by polyamory



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Agender Character, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bad Puns, Friendship, Gen, Genderqueer Character, Genderqueer Jean Prouvaire, Les Amis de l'ABC Shenanigans, Movie Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-03 01:31:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2833205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/polyamory/pseuds/polyamory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire hosts a movie night at his place and between dance numbers on tables, moth puns and high school musical he just really loves this ragtag bunch of friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	now that i'm here with you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Elltaire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elltaire/gifts).



> if you want to you can read grantaire and enjolras' interactions as some sort of minor pining on grantaire's part but it really is very vague
> 
> hope you enjoy this!

Grantaire doesn't know what happens but when he gets back from the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn Bossuet is balancing on his wobbly coffee table, swinging Joly's cane like a baseball bat and pelting High School Musical at the top of his lungs.

Joly is sitting on the couch, knees pulled up against his chest, cackling wildly.

"I know you can," he's gasping out through his laughter.

"Not a chance," Bossuet sings back, pointing the cane at Joly with the most ridiculous expression on his face.

"So I take it the movie choice for tonight has already been made?" Grantaire drawls, leaning against the door frame where the popcorn is way out of reach of Bossuet and his makeshift bat.

"Oh please, can we watch High School Musical?" Joly asks, one hand clutched over his heart.

"We'll have to start with the first though," Bossuet says, "We can't just start with the second, that's like, I don't know. Like something heinous and unthinkable."

"You're a real poet, L'aigle," Grantaire laughs, stepping forward when Bossuet jumps off the coffee table and instead falls onto the couch next to Joly.

"That's what we've got Jehan for," Bossuet says, waving the comment away with a lazy flick of his hand.

"Yeah," Joly perks up at that (or maybe he can just finally breathe again after laughing his ass off) "where is xe anyway?"

"Xe texted me like," Grantaire checks the time on his phone, "10 minutes ago saying, and I quote, 'be there in 15 just have to make a quick run to IKEA for some candles.'"

"Tell xem to bring a new coffee table. This thing is a health hazard," Bossuet says, giving Grantaire's poor coffee table a hard shove with Joly's cane, making it wobble precariously.

"How can a coffee table be a health hazard?" Grantaire asks, affronted on behalf of his furniture.

"You could break a leg," Joly points out as if it's the most obvious thing.

"Yeah, good luck with that," Grantaire mutters.

"Was that a- you theater kids are the literal worst with puns, I swear to god!"

"Anyway, you're only gonna break your leg if you stand _on_ it which, might I remind you, is not the intended use of a _coffee table_ ," Grantaire replies.

"Potato, potahto." Joly flaps his hands.

"Well, anyway. Jehan should be here any minute now." He looks back down at his phone. "Oh and Bahorel just texted that, he's. Right outside the door," he says with an exasperated sigh, going to open the door.

"Friends, brothers, siblings," Bahorel calls, throwing his arms wide as soon as he's inside the door.

"Bahorel," Grantaire says, one eyebrow raised, tone dry as rice waffles.

"Oh I know you missed me most of all," Bahorel says, smiling down at him, seeing as he's a good three heads taller than Grantaire. He opens his arms even wider. "Hug me, sibling!"

And really, with Bahorel smiling at him like that, wide and happy, what else can he do except hug him.

As soon as he opens his arms Bahorel sweeps him up in a hug, Grantaire wrapping his legs around Bahorel's waist instinctively. His arms fit snug around Bahorel's neck and his head into the groove of Bahorel's shoulder.

Bahorel laughs, the sound muffled in Grantaire's curls and squeezes him tight.

He only drops Grantaire when Joly calls from the living room, "What, do we not get hugs or what?"

Bahorel laughs his big booming laugh again, quickly followed by Joly's squeal and Bossuet's delighted peals of laughter.

"Don't break anything," Grantaire calls just as the doorbell rings behind him, announcing-

"Jehan!" Grantaire swings the door wide open and waves xem inside with his best TV show host smile.

Jehan is laden down with one of those big blue IKEA bags which xe promptly foists off on Grantaire.

"Is that-" Grantaire starts and, yep, a glance into the bag confirms that it is filled to the brim with nothing but candles.

"Atmosphere," is Jehan's only comment, thrown over xir shoulder like a silky scarf as xe makes xir way into the living room, calling out, "Bahorel, my sweetest sunflower child!"

Grantaire takes a moment to stand by the door, smiling dopily to himself because he loves his friends _so much_.

"Grantaire! Get your gay little ass over here," Bahorel calls from where he's draped along the back of the couch, chin propped on Joly's shoulder.

Jehan has taken over his armchair, one of Grantaire's knitted blankets wrapped around xir shoulders, and combined with xir overly large sweater xe just looks like a puddle of knitwear with a head poking out of it.

There's tiny golden blossoms tucked into xir dreads and Grantaire takes the opportunity to point an accusing finger at xem.

"You," he exclaims, "Do not. Get pollen all over my furniture. Again."

"That was a mistake," Jehan cries out, playing along. "And it was one time."

"I was sneezing for weeks whenever I so much as walked by the couch."

"Guys, guys," Bahorel steps between them, hands held up as if to keep them off of each other's throats should they decide to attack each other. "We get it, okay?" he turns to Grantaire saying, "Your immune system is a weak ass bitch," and here, he inclines his head towards Jehan, "and just can't handle Jehan's hardcore punk style."

"Don't you mean hardcore _nerd_ style?" Joly chimes in from the couch.

"Joly is my favorite," Grantaire says at the same time that Jehan gasps out, "Lies," one hand pressed to xir chest in faux shock, "Lies and slander!"

They're interrupted yet again by the door bell ringing.

"Oh, that must be Courf," Jehan starts, immediately distracted. Grantaire dutifully goes to open the door.

"Mes amis," he greets ushering Courfeyrac and Combeferre through the door. The sight of Enjolras coming in behind them startles him, but he manages to keep his reaction contained to a single raised eyebrow as he closes the door behind the three of them.

"What, did you think I wouldn't come?" Enjolras asks, clearly having read Grantaire's reaction the right way.

"Doesn't matter now what I was thinking, does it?" he shrugs, brushing the question off in a way he knows will annoy Enjolras even more.

True to form, Enjolras huffs out an annoyed little breath, making the strands of hair falling in front of their face flutter a little. They look weirdly endearing.

Courfeyrac and Combeferre have already proceeded to the living room, which is starting to feel a little cramped by now and they're not even all there yet. By the time Grantaire and Enjolras join them, Courfeyrac is already perched on the arm of Jehan's chair with one arm around xir shoulders and one of Jehan's hands on his knee.

Bahorel has migrated to the second couch where he's now patting the couch cushions in a show for Combeferre to sit down, slinging an arm around their shoulders when they do.

"How are the moths doing?" he asks, pulling Combeferre into his side.

"They miss you," Combeferre smiles, putting their socked feet in Bahorel's lap. "But other than that they're doing good. You could almost say they're pretty fly."

Combeferre grins hard when the whole room groans at that, Joly throwing a piece of popcorn at them.

"Combeferre," Enjolras says, "please, do moth make these jokes."

"Ooooh, that was even worse," Bahorel says, his face crinkling up with held back laughter.

"Well then we'll just have to wing it, won't we?" Combeferre laughs, patting Bahorel's hand.

"Guys," Grantaire interrupts before someone else can make more terrible puns, "can we move on? I feel like this is just much ado about mothing."

"Oh, motherfucker, was that a Shakespeare pun?" Bossuet laughs delightedly.

"No, I agree with Grantaire, let's move on, but I also know Combeferre and how bad they are at moving on." Joly interjects, just barely keeping his giggling at bay.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Combeferre asks, eyebrows creased in confusion.

"Well, you know what they say, a rolling stone gathers no moths," Joly says, breaking down in peals of laughter, taking most of the room with him.

"All of you, are the worst," Grantaire gasps once he's calmed down enough that he can talk again.

"How much longer are the others gonna be?" Courfeyrac asks after a moment of silence.

"I talked to Feuilly on the way here," Enjolras answers. "Eponine and they just got out of work and were on their way to pick up Marius and Cosette. They should be here soon."

"I'll get some drinks," Grantaire starts, suddenly remembering his role as host.

"I'll help you," Enjolras says, before he can even turn around. It would be an understatement to say he's a little caught off guard.

He can do nothing more than blink at Enjolras a few times and mutter something that vaguely sounds like "um, okay, yeah if you want to."

Enjolras follows him into the kitchen and as soon as the door closes behind them they start speaking.

"Look, I know you know that you're not my favorite person in the world." So this is an ambush, is what this is. "But I don't hate you. You're a decent person. You're not ableist, at least not that I've ever seen, you don't misgender me, you don't misgender my friends, and-" But that's the last straw for Grantaire.

"Your friends? _Your_ friends, Enjolras?" he says, and he can't even tell if his voice is too loud, is so beyond caring anyway. "Have you ever stopped to think that maybe they are _my_ friends, too? Much more than _you_ are my friend because they don't generally go around treating me like toxic waste."

Enjolras is staring at him, eyes widened slightly and Grantaire thinks that's probably their version of flabbergasted.

"And anyway, even if they weren't my friends I would still not fucking misgender them, what the fuck. I know what it's like to be misgendered, in case you forgot, and it fucking sucks." He huffs a breath, the steam going out of him just as quickly as it had come over him.

"I'm sorry," Enjolras says, and Grantaire thinks wildly that this might be the first time he's ever heard these words directed at him. "I realize I was out of line and- I clearly went about this the wrong way. I just wanted to-" they're clearly at a loss of words, which might be another first, Grantaire thinks.

"I get it, it's okay. You don't like me but you're acknowledging that I'm not actually the devil incarnate and we'll just keep pretending we're friends for the sake of our mutual friends," Grantaire says with a wry twist of his lips and hopes he doesn't sound as bitter to Enjolras as he does to his own ears.

Enjolras just stares at him wordlessly before they shake their head violently, hair flying around their face.

"No," they say, "that's not what I meant at all." They shake their head again, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, trying to find the right words.

"I appreciate you. And if not as a friend then as a friend of my friends. You're good for them and they love you and clearly you love them too. I didn't think that you would hurt them, that's not what I meant.

"And I appreciate you as a member of our group. You help with posters and flyers and you're compelling, good at convincing people when you want to. You have strong arguments and you back them up, I can appreciate that in a debate partner.”

"And," Enjolras stops as if gauging Grantaire's reaction so far, he makes sure his face is completely blank. "I think that you care. Not only about them," they gesture towards the closed door, "but about the cause, too, even if you don't show it."

Grantaire scoffs at that, making Enjolras' head snap up.

"That was a really nice speech," he says with as much sarcasm as he can manage to put into his voice, "Very moving. Glad to see you have me all figured out. Next time, instead of going to the therapist I'll just ask you for advice, how's that sound, hm?"

Enjolras huffs an annoyed breath. "I knew you wouldn't be able to take this seriously."

"Then why'd you try at all?" he laughs, throwing his arms wide, daring Enjolras to say anything, but before they can open their mouth he continues, "And don't you say 'for our friends' sake.' You'd be proving me right and I think that might actually be one of the seven signs of the apocalypse."

He doesn't really want to hear what Enjolras has to say to that and luckily he doesn't have to because the doorbell rings just then.

He's out of the kitchen and halfway to the door before anyone in the living room has so much as made a move to stand up.

"I'll get it," he calls to his friends just as he opens the door.

Something must show on his face because Feuilly immediately asks if they can hug him and Eponine gives him a knowing look that tells him they'll talk about this later.

"Hey there, Marius, Cosette," he greets, "lovely to see you, as ever."

"Hey Grantaire, how's dancing going?" Cosette smiles, lovely and glowing as ever, he wasn't lying about that part.

"It's going okay, still not getting many gigs but I don't really have a dancer figure, do I?" he shrugs, tries for a smile and misses, probably.

"Have these people ever seen you dance?" Cosette scoffs, taking off her scarf and hanging it on the coat hangers. "Thinking about it, I might need a partner for a few dance competitions this summer if you're up for it."

He scratches the back of his neck and the fact that they're alone in the hallway, Marius having been dragged off to the living room by Eponine, is the only reason he says the next words at all.

"Look, I appreciate the thought but I really don't wanna be your pity dance partner and bring you down in the process."

Cosette throws her head back, laughing loud and long. "Grantaire, oh my god. You're not my pity dance partner. I'm asking you because you have genuine talent and we work well together. And because the dance partner I have right now sucks." At his disbelieving look she adds, "If you don't believe me just come to one of our rehearsals and watch for an hour. Please?"

Grantaire huffs. "It can't hurt, I guess."

"Great," Cosette smiles brilliantly, "I'll text you the details."

He stands there for another moment, blinking at nothing, before following her into the living room that by now his friends have completely taken over.

Enjolras has managed to get the drinks out even without him and everyone is settling down, wrapping up in blankets and handing the popcorn around.

Grantaire puts the first High School Musical into the DVD player and settles into the place on the floor Eponine kept free for him.

With his head pillowed on her shoulder and her hand in his hair, their friends' hushed chatter around them in the dim room, he thinks he could stay here forever.


End file.
